


Passion

by CassondraWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Castiel, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Demon Dean, Feelings, M/M, Mark of Cain, Porn With Plot, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12212313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassondraWinchester/pseuds/CassondraWinchester
Summary: Taking the Mark of Cain changed Dean and left him feeling empty and angry. But sometimes he’s overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings that flood every waking minute and they just can’t be ignored, no matter how hard he tries. They drive him to places he’s not sure he wants to go.So he calls for the one person, the only being that can possibly help him. And when he calls, will Cas come? Will the angel still come now that he’s a demon?





	Passion

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank lotrspnfangirl for beta'ing this for me and zephyrchrysalis for Alpha reading and providing a cover photo.
> 
> I got the idea for this fic from one of my favorite episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Passion. 
> 
> I have always loved the poem and really wanted to do a Demon Dean/Angel Castiel centered around it.
> 
> This is what I came up with. I hope you guys enjoy it.

  


**_Passion._**  
**_It lies in all of us._**  
**_Sleeping… waiting…_**  
**_and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir…_**  
**_open its jaws and howl._**

**_It speaks to us… guides us._**  
**_Passion rules us all. And we obey._**  
**_What other choice do we have?_**  


**_Passion is the source of our finest moments._**  
**_The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… the ecstasy of grief._**  
**_It hurts sometimes more than we can bear._**  


**_If I could live without passion,_**  
**_maybe I’d know some kind of peace._**  


**_But I would be hollow._**  
**_Empty rooms, shuttered and dank._**  
**_Without passion, I’d be truly dead._**

  


  


  


“ **‘Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir… open its jaws and howl’,** ” Dean confided to the empty den of the Bobby’s old rundown cabin. It was a place he and Sam had spent a lot of time growing up in, weekend getaways while their dad was on a hunt, week long fishing trips in July with Bobby, something the old man had insisted on doing every summer. 

Without fail, it was where they could have fun, forget hunting and monsters, and just be _kids_. Their time there was always over before they were ready. And much too soon they would have to get back to their lives, the ones filled with loneliness and death, leaving carefree days in the sun with a fishing pole and a sense of happiness, seemingly light years away.

As the wind whistled outside, Dean took one final look around the dust covered room. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches before he slid it open and shook one free. Grasping the match stick firmly in his fingers, he pressed the head to the striker and quickly dragged it from one end of the box to the other. The sharp sound of it grinding against the coarse material and then sizzling to life filled the silence. Dean took in a deep breath just as the tang of sulfur permeated the air, a smell that he was quite hardened to now and one that he had even grown to like. The simple familiarity provided a strange, ironic sense of comfort.

A small smirk spread across his lips as he began to speak his summons. 

“I pray to thee, Angel Ca –”

Before Dean could even get the name out, he heard the familiar whoosh of wings. That very sound had his heart skipping a beat, like it always had done in the past. It was a sound he heard often, even now, mostly when he was alone, one that would have him looking out into the darkness only to find nothing, just false hopes and old memories clawing their way into the forefront of his mind.

Castiel’s breath hitched. “Dean?” His voice cracked as spoke barely above a whisper. The angel stared in confusion and disbelief at the back of the man standing in front of him, the man he lost six months ago to The Mark of Cain. 

Slowly, Dean turned to face Castiel, his eyes trained on the match in his hand. The flame flickered back and forth, as a warning of sorts. Dean’s eyes shot up to lock with Castiel’s just as he let the burning stick fall from his fingers and onto the ring of holy oil saturating the floor. The ring flared and roared to life around the angel standing in the middle.

Castiel stumbled back, wide eyed and panicked, before he paced his confines like a caged animal. 

“I don't understand!” He met Dean’s eyes. _Black eyes_. A look of confusion and betrayal adorned Castiel’s features. 

Dean hated that he caused that look on the angel’s face, hated how those blue eyes he’d remembered shining so brightly were now dulled. But… Why did he care? He shouldn't! He shouldn't feel _anything_. 

But he _does_ and therein lies the problem.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean greeted him with the false bravado he always used when he was trying to hide his true emotions. And it should be easier now, since these were emotions he shouldn't even be having.

“What do you want Dean?” Castiel steeled his features, letting the mask he’d gotten so used to wearing slip over his face to hide the confusion and betrayal, replacing it instead with a cold callous gaze. He was stoic, a good little soldier, had perfected that mask. It didn’t matter if deep down he knew it was all a lie. “Six months, Dean, six months we have tried to track you. But all we found were dead ends and empty leads.”

Dean shrugged smugly. “That's because I didn't want to be found.”

“I don't understand,” Castiel furrowed his brows, “then why did you summon me here?”

“Because I wanted to talk.” Dean beamed with a cloyingly sweet smile, like it was obvious. “And I need you to listen, to _really_ hear me out.”

“You want to talk?” The angel challenged incredulously, “What could you possibly want to talk about? What do you want me to hear out?” Castiel swallowed hard, frozen to the spot as he stared at the human, no not human, _demon_ now, Castiel reminded himself. But that still didn't change the fact that he had come to mean more to Castiel than any other. He bit back a laugh at the irony of Dean feeling the need to _ask_ him to listen, as if Castiel would ever _not_. 

“Passion!” The demon exclaimed excitedly as he approached the ring, the flames casting dark shadows on his face, reflecting the brightest orange in his obsidian eyes.

“Passion?” Castiel parroted, tearing his eyes away from Dean’s, focusing instead on the flames. They were less dangerous than the demon and hurt less to look at. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he forced himself to remain calm. Dean wouldn’t hurt him, or at least his Dean would never. But was there any part of _his_ Dean even still in there? 

“Yeah, Angel, passion.” Dean walked around the circle of holy fire, outstretched his hand and let his fingertips playfully dance along the blaze and chuckled as the flames licked at his palm. “ **‘It speaks to us… guides us. Passion rules us all.’** ” He threw his arms wide as if taking in the world. “ **And we obey. What other choice do we have?’** ”

“I--” Castiel shook his head in confusion, licking his lower lip as he forced his gaze up to meet Dean’s. “I don't understand. Dean, what you are talking about?”

Dean mimicked the movement, shaking his head to and fro, but not in confusion, in exasperation. “Come down to human level, Cas. Come down here with the rest of us ants.” Dean drawled out each word as he continued to stalk around the fire, his eyes never leaving the angel's. “You know how much energy an ant needs to move a crumb? I need you to listen with _that_ kind of energy.” Dean noticed the look on Cas' face, the narrowing of his eyes. "There ya go, Angel, now you're listening."

Castiel stood at attention, struggling between the fear digging deeper in him and the need to listen to each word coming from Dean’s mouth. The last time they were together… something had stopped Dean, stopped the blood lust from killing Castiel, and there was an ache inside of him that hoped, _prayed_ that the same something was still there. An uncomfortable burning made its way beneath every layer of his skin, burrowing deeper and deeper as it tugged on his Grace, making him feel like he was drowning... 

He cleared his throat, an entirely human gesture he’d learned from the Winchesters, and lifted his chin. This was Dean, but it wasn’t, and Castiel knew that showing weakness would be his downfall. “I am,” he answered simply, watching the smirk curl up the side of Dean’s mouth.

“Of course you are, Angel,” Dean whispered back, letting his eyes fall back to their human state for a second, laughing at the hitch of breath he heard from over the crackling of the fire. “I am talking about all those times you were in command, the times you took the reins, and I completely complied.” 

The demon took a deep breath as Dean stepped back and leaned against the wall. He could feel The Mark pulsing in time with his heart, blood pumping through his veins, a reminder he was alive and for the sole purpose of the hunt. It sang to him, breathed with him, battled with the absent scar on his shoulder that he couldn’t shake or forget, despite its absence. Anger swept through him as he recalled the times he’d allowed his own control to falter, when he surrendered to the power of the being before him.

“I swore my allegiance to heaven for _you_ ,” he continued, his arms crossing tightly to stop his hands from twitching as he glared at the angel before him. “I gave you my amulet, one of the very few things that meant anything to me because _you_ needed it. I helped you trap Raphael because _you_ needed me to.” 

Cas tracked his every move, every breath Dean took.

Dean ran his fingers back through his hair, something dark twisting in his stomach and he spat out, “I tortured Alistair for you, because _you_ ordered me to! I was so afraid of becoming a monster again,” scorn dripped from his smirk, “but, again, I obeyed.” He threw his arms up and hissed, “looks like that ship sailed because a monster is exactly what I became.” A resentful laugh filled the air, “But you needed me back then, Castiel, so what other choice did I have?” 

Castiel breathed out harshly, his wings shuddering behind him and he was grateful Dean couldn’t see them in this plane of existence, couldn’t see the emotions they betrayed. He stared back, impassive, though he could hardly argue. Dean was a monster now, was a thing he and Sam would’ve set out to destroy, and Castiel _ached_ for him.

“Do you regret it?” Castiel asked, swallowing hard as he watched the emotion, barely distinguishable, flicker over Dean’s face before black eyes locked back on his face. 

Finally, Dean shrugged and let out a long sigh, tightening his hands into fists and gaining control of himself. “That's a whole different conversation for another time.” He ignored the angel’s question and pushed off the wall as his voice rose, continuing with his original topic of conversation. 

_Passion_. 

“Do you understand now? You speak to me, Cas, even when you're not around. You guide me in everything I do.” Dean spun and punched the rotted wall, plaster crumbling around a fist sized hole before he rounded on the angel, crazed and shaken.

“ _You_ , Castiel! You are my obsession, my _passion_! Even with black eyes and no soul I still feel you, inside of me scratching away at every surface. You’re in here,” Dean tapped his finger against his temple. “Even worse in here.” The demon growled and placed his palm over his heart, digging his fingernails painfully into his chest as if trying to rip those very feelings out, before dropping his hand to his side with a long heavy sigh, giving up, resigning himself to his fate. “Without you man,” Dean shook his head his voice barely above a whisper, “I can't, Cas, I can't even breathe.” 

Dean suddenly looked small, curled in on himself and so very, very human. Castiel took a step forward, hissed under his breath as the power from the flames burned hotter against his Grace, and he faltered. He wasn’t human, Castiel knew that, he could feel the malevolence rolling off Dean in waves, the uncontrollable desire coming from The Mark, demanding for him to rip Castiel’s skin from his bones. And yet… 

“Dammit, C-Cas!” Dean spoke again, his voice soft, hesitating over Castiel’s nickname as he lifted his head and caught the angel’s eyes over the top of the fire. “I don't wanna be like this.” He waved his hand over himself. “But I can't change these feelings, I can't bury them deep down, they always claw their way back to the surface.”

“Your feelings for me,” Castiel asked, “or your feelings from The Mark? Dean’s eyes flashed once, bright green and alive before settling back to dark and cruel. 

“I think you know the answer to that,” Dean huffed. “No matter how hard I try, I can't change the fact that I _need_ you. I hate that, Castiel, I hate...” Dean trailed off with a deep growl.

Cas nodded, slowly, and narrowed his eyes as he met Dean’s glare. “Then why am I _really_ here, Dean? Is your plan to finish what you failed to at the bunker? Will killing me and submitting to The Mark make this pain that still lives inside of you disappear?” The angel’s eyes softened. “Will it make your feelings for me disappear?”

Dean shrugged dejectedly and continued.

“ **‘Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear’,** ” Dean recited and laughed, loud and empty, the sad sound echoing throughout the room. “Love, grief, hatred. It's all tied in with you, Cas. All my finest moments are with you.” Dean sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fists into his eye sockets before sliding them up and ripping at his hair. “Every. Single. One. Of. Them.”

He took a step closer to the fire and watched the mask Castiel had carefully crafted start to crack. “The ecstasy of grief… I grieved you, Cas, so many damn times,” Dean whispered, he saw the shiver that worked its way through Castiel’s body. 

“Dean,” Castiel whispered back, the name sounded broken as it spilled from his lips. “Please, don’t. Don’t do this, not like this…” His wings trembled behind him, aching to burst free and spring him from the fire, to save him from the demon’s confession. Because this wasn’t his Dean, it couldn’t be _his_ Dean. He didn't want to hear--

“The first time I saw you die, in Stull Cemetery, it happened so fast you would’ve thought I hadn’t had time to feel any kind of sorrow,” Dean snorted and shook his head, his voice soft and eyes green as he met Castiel’s ethereal blue ones. “My heart broke instantly, I believed you dead with such conviction, and I battled between grieving you and my brother. 

“But it wasn’t until the Leviathans took hold of your body and you walked out into that lake, forcing me to stand helpless and _watch_ you die again,” Dean sighed, breath shaking, “that I died too. I found that damn trench coat, a coat that hadn’t even been yours to begin with, and I kept it. I needed it. It was all I had left of you, so I couldn't let it go.”

“I came back,” Castiel whispered, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt at the pain he could hear in Dean’s voice. _Not Dean, it’s not Dean,_ the angel reminded himself. “I… I came back.” He forced himself to stand tall, watched Dean’s eyes narrow slightly before his face fell and he shook his head. Part of Castiel wished he would go back, would keep his eyes dark. Dean’s eyes were always bright, perfect windows to his soul, and the pain they reflected right now made Castiel want to fall to his knees, to beg him for forgiveness. 

“Emmanuel,” Dean said the name and shook his head. “Emmanuel came back, and Castiel was _gone_. He didn’t remember me and all the time we had spent together was forgotten. _You_ forgot me, abandoned me.”

Dean clicked his tongue as he paced around the fire again. “But you're right, you did come back to me. But no sooner had I gotten you back, we were banished to Purgatory.” Dean stopped pacing and glared at the angel. “Purgatory, where you abandoned me _again_.” 

Dean shook his head, spinning on his heel and pacing once more. Castiel leaned forward, trying to listen, Dean’s voice was now barely a whisper the further he got from the circle. “I finally got you back only to lose you.” He stopped suddenly and shouted, causing Castiel to step back. “No,” Dean barked, and Castiel didn’t know if he was angry at the angel flinching back or at the words spilling from his lips. 

“You left me! In that hell, you left me!” Dean stared at Castiel, watched his chest heaving with each breath, his eyes wide and wild. Dean wanted to punch him, give him a real reason to look so fucking scared. With a pained cry he let out his frustration, pacing again and trying to reign in the sudden surge of emotions. 

“Dean, I--”

“I know! I know you said it was for my own good, to keep the Leviathan off my trail. But we have always had each other's backs. I would have rather been hunted with you than hunting _for_ you.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, “but then, I found you down by the river, Cas, and all that was forgotten. It was how it should have been, us fighting side by side for our lives and when I was scared, I was always able to find comfort in you. You were back, _we_ were back. I lo--” Dean cleared his throat, fists clenching at his side. “I had so many feelings, Cas. And you chose to stay behind, leaving me yet again.” 

Dean met Cas’ eyes ignoring The Mark burning against his flesh. It fed off his distress, screamed out its solution of blood and pain. It hated that the next words sounded weak, “Was I that bad? Bad enough you would stay in that hell than come home with me?”

“De-” Castiel started only to be cut off. 

The demon held up his hand and shook his head, eyes flashing black. “Never mind, don't answer that. I don’t need your excuses, Castiel.” 

The angel shifted under Dean’s calculating gaze. Dean’s face twisted, his tongue licking his bottom lip and Castiel hesitated, thought about answering anyway. 

“You know,” Dean started instead, "I regretted not telling you how I felt each and every day that I was topside without you.” 

Castiel closed his eyes. The back and forth of _demon_ Dean and _his_ Dean was screwing with his mind. He reached behind himself, fingers clutching in his feathers, drawing his wing closer to his body, thankful for the small sense of security it provided. He blew out a breath and opened his eyes to meet the verdant ones staring back at him. He wasn’t sure if this was better.

“Love,” Dean sighed harshly, breaking the heavy silence between them, “The joy of love. Do you know what love was to me, Angel?” 

Dean waited until Cas slowly shook his head, throat convulsing as he swallowed. The angel’s hands were twisted around something invisible at his side, fingers twitching nervously. Dean watched for a moment before continuing. 

“Love was driving Baby to or from a case with you by my side, even if we didn't speak for hours. You were there and that was enough for me.” Dean gave a soft smile, looking down at the concrete floor for a moment before glancing back up. “It was eating burgers at hole-in-the-wall diners with you while working a case, even though you never actually ate. It was the way you _always_ had my back in a fight, always.” 

Dean took a step closer to the fire as he watched Castiel’s expression crumble further, his fingers twitching faster. The angel looked nervous, antsy, but his eyes never left Dean’s face.

“It was the way you misunderstood simple, trivial, human things, but tried anyway. It was the way you were always so ready to follow me into a fight, despite knowing there was a very real chance you might not walk away from it.” Dean scrubbed his hands down his face. “It was just… every moment you were by my side.”

“There was no place else for me to be,” Castiel whispered, watching Dean stand frozen before him, head in his hands. “Even if there was, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. You… you and Sam are, _were_ , my family.”

“All these feelings!” Dean exploded as he pressed his palms to his temples. “I shouldn't have _any_ of these feelings, Cas!” He met the angel’s eyes with a steely gaze, anger churning in his gut. Nothing else mattered, everything else had ceased to exist other than the blood coursing through his veins, the pulse of unbridled desire to maim, and these overwhelming _feelings_. “I hate it so God damned much.”

The demon let out a loud boisterous laugh, his hands dropping back to his side. “Now _hate_? That's a feeling that speaks to me. It's simple, unlike grief and love, there's a clarity to hatred. And, God, have there been some moments where I have absolutely _hated_ you, Castiel.” 

The angel cringed at Dean’s harsh tone, his body trembled as his Grace struggled to keep him standing. The oil was still burning hot at full power, but his own was steadily slipping away.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered and Dean laughed again, the sound sharp and striking the very depth of Castiel. 

“Have you ever hated someone so deeply,” Dean continued as if Castiel hadn’t spoken at all, “the feel of their bones crushing beneath your fists is pure euphoria? Mozart couldn’t compose a better sounding symphony than the melody of splitting flesh and pleading moans. But you know this, don’t you, Castiel? You felt it, too, when you used my body to orchestrate your own masterpiece.”

The angel closed his eyes in shame and let out a deep shuddering breath. “I'm so, so-”

“Now, don't keep on apologizing, Angel,” Dean cooed in a sickly-sweet voice. “I always knew what a dangerous creature you were. But, damn, it was so good to finally _see_ it, to feel it as you slammed my body against that brick wall, as it scraped and marked my back. The way you got in my face and shouted at me for letting you down...” Dean huffed as he let his eyes trail from the flames, up the angel’s body and to his eyes. “You know, in that moment I wanted so badly for you to hit me. The physical pain would have hurt far less than your words.” 

Dean shifted his weight, paused to survey the rush of emotions over the angel’s face. “So,” he drew out the word, smirking as Castiel’s fingers twitched, the movement small but it may as well have been a full body flinch. “Man, that first blow to the face was beyond a welcomed distraction.” Dean licked his lips and stepped forward. “Then you hit me over and over. And I begged, I said--I said _please_ ,” he growled, the last word holding so much disgust. “But did you stop?” 

Dean watched and waited for the angel to shake his head. Dean raised an eyebrow, prompting, “Well, c’mon!” Dean taunted him, opening his arms wide. “Did you?”

The angel let out a resigned sigh and shook his head. “I-”

“Nu uh,” Dean held up his hand and moved his finger back and forth, “I said none of that.” 

Dean took another calculated step forward; the toes of his boots just barely inches from where the oil ring started. “That's right you didn't,” Dean continued, his tone oozed triumph, the vindication of being right. “No, instead you told me how I let you down, _again_.” 

Castiel did flinch this time, his body jerking back and eyes squeezing shut as if he could see the scene in front of him, could feel Dean’s blood, tacky against his split knuckles. The demon reveled in the way the angel recoiled. Dean could see the scene too, and he breathed out, voice hushed. “You hit me again and _again_ , and _then_ ,” his voice rose with anger and dripped with resentment, “THEN when I doubled over, you kicked me in the face so hard I was thrown into the friggin’ fence.” 

“Dean-”

Dean’s eyes fell to the floor, he could feel the angel’s on him now. “As I lay there choking on my own blood, you stalked towards me like the predator you are, just going in for the kill.” He could hear Castiel’s heart beating like a trapped bird in his ribcage, guilt drowning him. A smirk spread across Dean’s lips as he _felt_ the angel’s internal struggle, looked up and saw in the light of the fire as the angel’s eyes looked pained. Dean knew he remembered, that he remembered every blow, too. 

“And I told you to do it. I wanted it to be you. I would have rather it be _you_.” Dean sighed and shook his head. “But, as I watched your balled-up fist uncurl and the way you looked at me, I knew it was all just a _lesson_ you wanted to teach me. And it was over.”

“Dean, no,” Castiel tried to protest, “you don’t kno--”

“YOU don’t get to talk!” Dean bellowed as he leaned closer to the flames, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. He circled the ring of fire, completely silent and lost in thought. When he spoke again, his voice cracked with power. “But that wasn’t the only time you had a lesson to teach me, was it?”

Castiel felt his eyes narrow slightly, his mind working overtime to come up with what Dean was mentioning now. He couldn’t think past the crippling guilt he felt from that night in the alley, he could still remember the feeling of Dean’s flesh breaking beneath his borrowed body’s blows. He met Dean’s eyes and felt his stomach plummet; they seemed even darker, dangerous, a predator zeroed in on his prey. 

“There are some lessons that _need_ to be taught, isn’t that right, Castiel?” Dean paused in his pacing, not taking his eyes off the angel, his voice dropping down to just barely a whisper. “Do you remember the crypt?” 

Castiel drew in a sharp breath that made Dean bark out a laugh. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I thought you might.”

“No, no, that was different!” Castiel pled, “That was Naomi. She was controlling me.”

“Come on, Angel!” Dean challenged. “You can't tell me,” he leaned toward the flames again, “that a small part of you didn't _enjoy_ it. That a part of you didn’t get _off_ on it.”

Castiel vehemently shook his head, suddenly battling a strange sensation in his stomach. He felt hot and cold, all at once, his stomach spasming as he shook his head harder. “I'm not--I’m not a monster.” 

Castiel closed his eyes, immediately seeing Naomi’s face. He shuddered at her voice in his memory. _‘No hesitation. Quick. Brutal. Lie to them. Kill him. You have done this a thousand times, Castiel. You’re ready! Kill him. I fixed you, Castiel, I fixed you! Kill him. **Kill him!’**_

The demon let out a loud bark of laughter as Castiel’s whimpered. The pitiful sound reminded him of a small child, the angel pulling in on himself at whatever was raging war in his mind. It was a cruel bark, but the demon delighted in the way the Warrior Angel quivered. 

“You sure could have fooled me,” he continued, smirking as Castiel ripped his eyes open and tried to focus on Dean’s face. “The way you broke my hand, the bones crushing in your grip, dropping me instantly to me knees.” Dean laughed with a wry amusement, a zing of pleasure warmed his veins as the angel blanched. “Do you remember, Castiel? _‘Cas, this isn’t you!’_ ” Dean’s voice went higher, a mockery of himself and Castiel gasped. 

“ _‘Cas, Cas, I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me! Cas!’_ But you just held onto my hand and continued to hit me in the face over, and over, and over again. Do you remember, Castiel? The way I begged you from the ground and you mutilated me with the look of hellfire and brimstone in your eyes?” 

“ _‘It’s me, we’re family, we need you,’_ ” Dean paused, eyes reverting green, “ _‘I need you’_.” His eyes slammed back to black and Dean snarled, spit flying from his mouth as he yelled, “As I pathetically cried out for you to hear me, did you focus on the feeling of my skin splitting, on my bones shattering? My blood hot and sticky, wet as it dripped down your hands,” Dean met the angel’s shamed gaze, “Was that your greatest symphony, Castiel?”

The angel swallowed, fighting every urge to look away from Dean’s pointed gaze. Hearing Dean’s own recount of that moment, Dean acting as if his words meant nothing, cut a hole straight through the center of Castiel’s chest. The last tendrils of his Grace were fighting hard to keep him upright, to heal this newfound ache in his chest, but nothing could heal this. 

Dean started to move again and Castiel followed him with his eyes, opening his mouth once before letting it fall closed. What could he possibly say? _Dean, you saved me then, you pulled me back from the deepest parts of my hellish nightmare? Naomi was torturing me, as I tortured you, and you saved us. You saved me. And I need you, too._

Cas felt the hole in his soul deepen, his Grace grew colder as he bit back what he wanted to say in the face of Dean’s cold hard stare.

“Nothing to say, there, huh?” Dean huffed, but it wasn’t amused. It wasn’t gleeful. It was sad. “I reached for you,” he whispered, holding his out hand over the flame, “I still believed in you as you broke my body.” Dean pulled his hand back and balled it into a fist as he stood at the fire's edge. “I called you ‘family’, Cas, because you _were_.” 

In the circle, Castiel was shaking violently, his hand reaching for something behind him, then coming forward to twist at his front. Dean watched him for a moment, wondering if he was shaking his head in shame. Perhaps denial? Despair? “I told you I needed you, because I _did_ ,” he continued, “did it make you feel all-powerful to hear me beg? To have me at your mercy?”

Castiel’s unseen wings curled closer to his body, and he clutched at their fading feathers. “Dean ple-” 

“Don't!” The demon growled. “Don't you dare try to make excuses!” His eyes glittered coldly as he stared down the angel. “I was weak! _You_ make me weak! Whatever it is between us, this so called ‘Profound Bond’?” The sneer was clear in his voice and added weight to the words, “It’s ruined me. YOU, you, have ruined me! I can't be how I'm supposed to, I'm useless…” he trailed off, his cold eyes turning morose.

“Dean,” Castiel started, waiting for the demon to tell him to shut up. After a few moments of silence he continued, “Don't say such things. You,” his eyes plead with Dean’s, “you are far from weak. Dean, you have _never_ been weak. YOU are the one who taught _me_ to be strong, taught me free will. You're not ruined, you’re everything to me. You just need to be mended.” 

Dean was surprised at how quickly the angel’s words came. It was unlike him, Castiel usually spent more time bumbling through poetic speeches than actually speaking. Dean narrowed his eyes, guessing the verbal rush was to ensure he’d actually be able to get a word in edgewise. His arm burned, reminding him of his anger and he scowled. Did he have to waste his words on complete garbage?

“You think you can save me?” Dean spat out bitterly. “You? Am I to put my hopes in you? Do you want to know what's worse than _believing_ in an intangible, celestial being?” Dean clicked his tongue with the question. He waited a beat for the angel to answer. “NO?” His brows rose higher in challenge. “Huh!” He nodded with a small frown, “Well, let me enlighten you! What's worse than believing, is being _betrayed_ by a celestial being. Finding out you were just as big a douche as the rest of your feathered friends!”

Dean had to admit that seeing the revulsion on Castiel’s face, the torment in his eyes, fed something in The Mark. It sang its righteous anger through his veins, tainting his blood, twisting malice into his soul.

“Crowley,” Dean growled and watched as Castiel stumbled back. “Splitting flesh and breaking bones, I understand – you’re speaking my language. But how, _how,_ could you have gone to him over me? I was always there for you, Castiel, always!” 

The demon’s voice cracked as it rose in volume, his body poised threateningly over the flames. “When you really needed someone, you went to him?” Dean’s lip curled in a sneer, as he choked back a snort as the angel’s shoulders slumped. “You thought _he_ could help you in ways I couldn't?” 

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, snapping his mouth shut. 

Dean stepped back and shook his head, pressing forward, “Gotta tell ya, man, THAT hurt. Hell, it was a whole new level of _hate_ I’d never felt before.”

“I,” Castiel cleared his throat, “I couldn't ask that of you, not after all the sacrifices you had made.”

“God dammit, Cas!” Dean shook his head. “You didn't even _ask_! Do you know how that made me – makes me feel? I would have done anything for you! But you didn't even give me the chance, did you?”

Castiel hung his head, unable to even look Dean in the eyes. It didn’t matter what color, green or black, the words he spoke were true and validated the worst of Castiel. There was nothing to say, nothing to take back, no amount of regret would change the actions that caused Dean so much hurt.

Dean, with his obsidian eyes and depraved shrouded soul, was less of a monster than Castiel. 

“You know what I hate most of all, Cas?” Dean sighed wearily, breaking the silence again. “It's that I can't _truly_ hate you.” He looked through the flames at his Warrior Angel, head hung and seemingly broken. “No matter what you do – you could rip out my heart, and you have come damn close a time or two before, but I'm still not _capable_ of hating you.”

He met Castiel's eyes, a pleading look on his features. “Do you understand me, Cas?” The demon let out a bitter laugh, “Of course you don't understand... you're just an angel, cold and emotionless.”

Castiel stepped dangerously close to the fire, his Grace screaming at him as the flames left him feeling weakened. “Just because I'm an angel doesn't mean I don't know what it's like to _feel_.” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed, but in curiosity, now, instead of anger. 

It made Castiel push forward. “I understood, could rationalize feelings before I even came to Earth. Humans were always... fascinating to me.” The fire burned brighter the closer Castiel got, flames turning blue and white. The power it held was choking, smothering the very essence in him, but he couldn’t step back, couldn’t stop. “But it was you, Dean Winchester, The Righteous Man, that made me _truly_ feel. It was… alarming, overwhelming, to say the least. It made me question everything I’d ever known. Everything I was ever taught.”

Castiel’s body trembled, his wings hanging limp behind him. Dean snarled and stepped forward, only inches between them and Castiel gasped and stepped back, flames returning to their deep shade of orange.

“ **‘If I could live without passion, maybe I’d know some kind of peace. But I would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank’.** ” Dean outstretched his arms, showing off the dilapidated cabin, eyes locking on the angel once more. “Why can't I rid myself of you, _Castiel_ ,” he spat the name as if it were a curse. “Why?”

Castiel shook his head. There wasn’t an answer he could give. “As I said,” he whispered, “If you want to finish what you started in the bunker…”

“As if I could live without you!” Dean interrupted, staring over the flames, incredulously. “Maybe I really _would_ know some kind of peace. But at what price?” Dean suddenly walked through the fire and crowded into the angel’s personal space, backing him up against the flames. A shiver rippled through Castiel’s body but he stayed tall, eyes locked on Dean. 

“I don't...” Dean sighed as he reached up and placed his hands on Castiel’s face before pressing their foreheads together, his black eyes now the vibrant green of The Righteous Man he once was. Castiel didn’t dare pray for them to stay. “I don't want to be hollow, Cas.”

“What makes you think I want you like this?” Castiel’s voice was shaking, his hands clenched by his side. As he looked into Dean's verdant eyes he ached to reach out and take. But he reminded himself, _He’s not my Dean anymore._

Dean let out a small soft laugh, whispering his reply, “Deep down, Angel, I know you feel exactly the way I do.” Dean licked his lips. “I know that you're willing to have me anyway you can. Because even after all this time,” his breath ghosted against the angel’s lips, “and knowing what I am… you still came when I called.”

They stood, face to face, inches separating their bodies. Castiel could feel every rise and fall of Dean’s chest, the flames making his skin scream, his Grace crackling and popping inside of him. He stared, Dean’s eyes searching his, his dark soul silent for once since they’ve been together. Dangerous still, but sleeping, and with a soft sound, Castiel’s resolve broke.

He wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling him flush against his body. It was acceptance and it was an acknowledgement that what the demon spoke was true. “I will always come when you call, no matter what,” he confessed for the first time to himself and to the demon in his arms.

“I know,” Dean acknowledged as he pressed their lips together.

The angel gasped and pulled back. “Wha-what are you doing?” He fumbled nervously over his words.

Dean firmly clutched his fist in the lapels of Castiel's coat as he growled, “I think you know exactly what I'm doing.” 

Before Castiel could respond, Dean’s lips were on his again. A rough hand came up to cup the angel’s jaw as the demon deepened the kiss. It was hard and bruising, all teeth and tongue, and Castiel pressed back just as hungrily, conveying years of passion and desire into that single kiss.

Dean’s hands wound into the angel's hair and he yanked his head back, breaking the kiss in favor of sucking and biting Castiel’s exposed throat. He laved his tongue over the trail of love bites, tracing each and every one with his tongue until Castiel was panting and quivering in his hold.

Dean smirked and rubbed his stubbled cheek against Cas’, nuzzling him as he nibbled on his ear lobe. Fingers skated beneath the angel’s trench coat, palms ran up his chest to his shoulders, pushing the heavy fabric of the coat off so it fell down Castiel’s arms and snuffed the flames. 

The demon pushed Castiel back over the trench coat and out of the ring of fire. Dean could see the flash of light in the angel’s eyes when he was clear from the blaze, bright blue and prodigious. He knew Castiel's Grace was pulsing within him, regenerating. 

Dean chuckled darkly as he wound his arms around the back of the angel’s neck. “What now? Are you going to fly away? Or…” Dean trailed off as he met Castiel's eyes; there was so much left unspoken, undefined. 

Castiel stared back. Dean was giving him an out. He could fly away and never come back, never lay eyes on the man – no _demon_ – in front of him again. He could be free of him. But, could he ever really? Could Castiel pass up the only chance he may ever have to be with him? Even if he's not _his_ Dean, there’s still a part of him that has to be… 

Dammit! The demon had known the second he crossed the flames, the moment he’d ‘freed’ Castiel from the ring, that he wasn’t freeing Castiel at all. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d been right when he said Castiel would have Dean any way he could. It was written plainly on Castiel’s face, every single time he laid eyes on the oldest Winchester. That point was definitely driven home when Castiel lunged forward and crashed their lips together. 

Dean could taste the metallic tang of blood. He didn't know if it was his or the angel's, all he knew was he didn't care. The taste exploded across his tongue as he delved deeper into Castiel’s mouth, The Mark singing out it’s pleasure at being fed and making him want _more_. 

Without warning, Dean hoisted the angel up. Castiel immediately responded by wrapping his legs around Dean's waist, his nails digging into the meat of the demon’s shoulder blades as he continued to kiss him with unadulterated fervor. They shifted and Dean slammed Castiel into the wall, his shoulders hitting a support beam and the decaying wood cracking from the force. Castiel grunted into Dean’s mouth, pulling him in closer. 

The demon gripped the front of Castiel’s shirt and ripped it open with a snarl; buttons scattered across the floor. Dean ran his hands down the angel's bare flesh, feeling the heated skin quake at his touch and he smirked at the gasp that fell from Castiel’s mouth as he dipped his fingers past the band of his pants. The demon licked his lips and worked his hand all the way in, gripping the angel’s hard cock. Castiel's eyes fell shut as his head dropped back against the wall, his hips arching into Dean’s fist with a low dirty moan.

Dean laughed as he removed his hand, wrapping his arms tightly across the angel's back as he crossed the room and dropped Castiel onto the old cot in the corner. The rusted springs squeaked as he landed, letting up a small puff of dust. Castiel didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t care. His breathing was ragged, eyes filled with uncontained lust as he stared up at Dean. 

The angel’s hooded eyes watched as Dean stood before him, his hands reaching to unbutton his own jeans. Slowly, too fucking slowly, the demon drew the zipper down and slipped his hand beneath the denim to pull out his rock hard erection. He stroked it slowly, groaning deep in his throat at the feeling. 

Locking eyes with Castiel, Dean continued stroking his dick and used his free hand to grab the back of Cas’ head, fisting the short, dark hair and hauling the angel up to a sitting position. He guided his cock to Castiel’s mouth and ran the head across his kiss swollen lips, wetting them with precome. 

He paused, waiting, and groaned when the angel darted his tongue out to run across his bottom lip, tasting his essence. Castiel looked up and let his lips part, giving Dean all the permission he needed. He slipped his cock into Castiel's mouth and the angel took him all, sucking greedily. Dean tightened his grip in Castiel's hair and bucked his hips forward.

“You better get my cock dripping wet, Angel. It's the only lube we have,” Dean growled as he drove his dick down Castiel’s throat. Castiel groaned and Dean laughed as he continued to rock into the wet heat of his mouth. 

“Mmm, so good,” Dean panted as he placed his hand on Castiel's throat, squeezing gently with each withdrawal to feel Cas’ gasping breath, his pulse fluttering wildly beneath his palm. Dean watched with rapt fascination as he fucked the angel's mouth. He smirked as Castiel started to drool around his cock, loved the way it dripped from his mouth and covered his chin.

"God, that's fuckin’ beautiful," Dean moaned, rocking his hips harder as Castiel started to bob his head in earnest. With an almost regretful sigh, Dean tugged Castiel's hair, pulling him off his cock with a wet pop. “Take your clothes off,” he growled as he dropped his own pants and wrenched his shirt over his head. Castiel worked just as quickly to rid himself of his clothing. 

“Laydown,” Dean demanded as he placed his palm on the angel's chest. Castiel nodded and lay back onto the cot, another small puff of dust and an angry creaking sound from the springs filled the sudden silence. Dean stayed perched over Castiel, the pair breathing hard as they stared at each other, taking in every inch of unseen skin for the first time.

“Dean,” Castiel finally moaned as he reached for the demon. He craved his skin, his heat. Even with his Grace fully replenished, he could _feel_ the icy chill of the room. 

Dean smirked as he climbed on the bed and straddled the angel, rolling his hips to settle their bodies together. Beneath him, Castiel hissed, bucked his hips as soon as Dean’s cock slid next to his.

“Sensitive,” Dean purred as he rolled his hips. “So many things I want to do to you, have wanted to do to you for so long now.” Dean ran a hand up Castiel's chest, fingertips skimming along his throat and to his mouth.

“Suck,” Dean demanded as he pushed his fingers between the angel's lips. Castiel sucked the fingers further into mouth, twisting his tongue around them like he had the head of Dean’s cock, shivering at the feeling of the pads of his fingers over the sensitive flesh of his tongue. He worked them over, drenching them with his saliva, and opening his mouth wide before pulling back.

Dean positioned himself between Castiel's legs and surged forward, crushing their mouths together. He sucked Cas’ bottom lip into his mouth, biting it hard before growling out, “You ready for me? I'm not going to be gentle with you.”

Castiel groaned in response and spread his legs wider. “I'm an angel. Be as rough as you want, I can take it.” He sucked in a sharp breath as he felt Dean’s fingers rubbing circles over his rim, testing his resolve. Then, Dean smiled, flashing all of his teeth.

“I know you can, Warrior of God,” Dean challenged as he thrust two wet fingers into the tight heat of Castiel’s ass. Hands flew up, grasping Dean’s shoulders, fingernails digging into the corded muscles of his shoulders before raking down his back. Castiel gasped, his hips falling open wider as Dean roughly worked him open. 

Dean added a third finger at the same time his other hand came up to grip Castiel's jaw, making him meet his eyes. “Tell me, Cas. Tell me you want this, that you want me.” 

Castiel's chest was rising and falling rapidly as he nodded. 

“Not good enough!” Dean tightened his grip on Castiel's jaw. “I need to hear you say it, Angel.”

Castiel gasped as Dean’s fingertips grazed his prostate. “I want you, just as you are! Dean, please, I want you,” the words spilled past his lips, his entire body coiled like a spring around Dean. 

Dean nodded, accepting, as he leaned down and hissed into Castiel's ear, “Careful what you wish for, Angel.” 

The demon removed his fingers, spit in his palm, and slicked up his aching cock. He took himself in hand and positioned himself between Castiel’s legs, lining himself up to Castiel’s spit-slicked hole. He pressed against the tight ring of muscle, the initial burn suddenly giving way as the muscle relaxed against the intrusion. He snapped his hips forward, driving himself completely into Castiel’s welcoming body. The angel keened loudly as his back bowed off the bed.

Dean moaned in sheer pleasure as Castiel’s tight heat squeezed around his cock. He gripped the angel's hips and pulled out to the tip before pushing back in, relishing the harsh drag of his cock against the angel's velvety walls. The demon thrust in and out, harder and deeper on each push, drawing the most delicious moans from the angel trembling beneath him.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, his eyes lidded as he rutted deeper, seeking out more. More pleasure, more passion, _more_ to quell The Mark’s urge than to cause pain.

Castiel tightened his legs around Dean’s waist, lifting his hips up to match each of Dean’s thrusts. As if he was reading Dean’s own thoughts, he gasped, and yelled out for more as the demon’s cock nudged his prostate. 

Dean grabbed a fistful of Castiel's hair and yanked his head to the side, exposing the taut line of his neck. “Not such an innocent little angel, are you? You love this, don't you? Love my thick cock deep inside you.” Dean grunted slamming hard into Castiel, the cot beneath them shifting across the wooden floor. The rusted springs were almost as loud as Castiel’s moans. Dean leaned down, tongue dragging up the angel’s throat before he found his lips and claimed them in a bruising kiss. 

Castiel rotated his hips, drawing Dean deeper. He moaned as Dean’s fingers dug harder into his hips, heard the demon growl against his skin before he suddenly moved and pushed up to his knees. The angle changed _perfectly_ and Castiel cried out, head thrown back.

“Oh, yes! Oh, God! Dean!” Castiel keened as Dean gripped his hips and picked up the pace, his cock occasionally hitting his prostate, a teasing promise for more.

Dean watched where their bodies joined, his cock sliding in and out of Castiel's hole. He listened as the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the cabin along with their joint groans, gasps, and cries of pleasure. 

“So beautiful, Angel. So beautiful for me.” Dean praised as he trailed his hands down Castiel's chest and gripped his heated flesh, working his hand up and down the shaft. The Mark stayed silent at the affection, satisfied by the brutal, punishing pace of their bodies slamming together.

Dean blanketed himself over Castiel and growled the words against his throat, his voice deep and commanding, “Come for me, Cas. Wanna feel you come around my cock. Be a good little angel and come for me." He sank his teeth into Castiel's pulse point, almost drawing blood as his hand furiously worked the angel's cock.

Castiel’s body locked as he came with a cry, his cock pulsing and painting his stomach with his release. The angel's inner muscles convulsed and tightened around Dean, clenching as the waves of his orgasm washed over him. 

Dean's hips stuttered and he dropped his head onto Castiel's shoulder, moaning loudly as his cock throbbed and he filled the angel, thrusting in deep and making sure Castiel got every drop of his seed.

They were both sweaty and panting when Dean pulled out, the angel's hole fluttered emptily. A moment later, Dean's spend slipped from him and coated his thighs. Dean dropped down onto the bed beside Castiel breathless and sated, The Mark, finally, dormant, sated, for the time being. 

Slowly, Castiel turned to face Dean, half afraid to break the sudden comfortable, content silence. He was glad his hand didn’t shake as he reached over and ran his fingertips down Dean’s cheek, sighing happily when Dean leaned into the touch. 

“You will always be my Righteous Man,” he whispered, breathing out slowly when Dean met his eyes. They were kind, beautiful, and Castiel swore he could see his soul. “You will always be the one that taught me free will. The one who made me _feel_. You, Dean Winchester, are _encompassing_ , my purpose. I will always be yours.”

The demon wrapped his arms around his angelic lover and in that moment, he _knew_.

“Good,” Dean pulled Castiel closer until he was flush against him, his chin resting on Castiel’s shoulder, lips pressed against Cas’ cheek. “Because I can't end this,” he breathed out, arms tightening around Cas’ body, “I can't lose you, Cas. I need you.” 

He laid another kiss, this time to the angel's temple, before whispering reverently against the sweat soaked skin.

“ **Without passion, I’d be truly dead**.”


End file.
